End of the Line

Title: End of the Line
Author: Dice
Fandom: OCs
Pairings: m/m Ronan/Sean

Warning: Well, warning and warning, Sean's comments in this may be
offensive to some people into S/M. And also compared to the last
instalment in this series this story takes a well, unexpected turn
and it's not a happy go lucky story, k? + Someone has got in trouble.
And lastly Beta? What's that?

Special Thanks: To all my wonderful listsibs and especially to Rusty
and Hedeia without whom this would never have been finished. And I'm
sorry Rusty, I know there's one thing about this one you hate ;)

************

End of the Line


One of these days I would have to tell him I didn't want him to do
this anymore. He was quietly pulling me towards him, I was resting
like always, looking anywhere but straight at him and not able to
speak. My voice seemed to hide somewhere when he reached this point
in our discussions.

"Sean, love, it's not that I don't sympathise with you. But you
agreed to this before you left last night."

I nodded, it was true, I'd told him to do this Wednesday. I had been
joking though, he knew that, which made this feel slightly unfair. He
had first made me agree to meeting him and Sebastian for a beer after
work, and then he'd kissed me, looking m in the eyes and said that if
I managed to forget about it because of work – again, I did that all
the time – I would have to make it up to him.

I'd told him to spank me.

I'd worked a full hour later than I'd said I would.

I'd be spanked in a few moments.

Quite a logical conclusion of course, but I was feeling as if my
stomach had vacated it's usual grounds and ended up hugging my heart
for comfort.

Trousers coming off, the room began to feel chilly. This was the
third time in my apartment, but far from the third time. Why I let
this happen I had no idea, I'd never been big on psychology and never
in touch with my feelings. But having Ronan grasp me and treat me
like he was completely sure of what should happen to me made me loath
to disagree.

Not until the pain was so fierce and hot that I thought about biting
his heel did I manage to drive a cry from my lips and then continue
sobbing while he spanked. At last he took pity on me and let me slide
down on the floor.

So far I hadn't once clung to him like the first time. I had more
control now and I intended to keep the little pride I had left. I'd
not allow him to see me as a little boy, even though he treated me
like I was one.

"So why was this so bad I had to be punished for it?" I snorted when
he reached a hand out to stroke my hair. He gave me a bemused smile
and bent to kiss me, sitting down on the floor with me.

"I never spank unless it's well deserved, Sean, and you told me to,
don't forget that!" he held me for awhile and I rested my head on his
shoulder, giving up the fight for the time being. I decided he was a
witch, that was the only what I could explain why I let him do this.
Bastard!

I had almost fallen asleep when he started speaking again. I listened
to him giving me instructions about work again – nothing he hadn't
said before, all of it sane and it was common sense and courtesy and
all of that, but it didn't change anything really.

It only felt half wrong this, it was as if I couldn't quite get my
mind around this enough to form an opinion on it. It wasn't a good
part of our relationship, that much I knew, but was it a bad enough
part to be made an issue of? Probably.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked caressing my sore left cheek with a
steady, but gentle hand, I nodded a little. "Very?"

"Not too…" I kissed him. It would feel better if we had sex, it
always did.

"You're a darling, darling," he said and rose, I shook my head and
told him he was an idiot, which made him chase me into the bedroom
where we both ended up laughing more than kissing.
I'd talk to him tomorrow.



I didn't. And not the day after and then suddenly things took an
unexpected turn. Time or life or fate made the decision for me. There
was no time to talk to him about anything after that.



Ronan was pressed close to me, dancing, his movements smooth and
sensual and he was driving me half mad, it'd been years since I
considered sex in the mens last, but I was ready to pull him in there
right now. It was a Saturday night and we were at a club called
Heaven, the one on Willers Street. After leaving Manchester going out
had turned into an imposition, I'd stopped doing it – it's rather too
risky and I don't generally like being this obvious, but here we were
and I was quite enjoying myself.

It wasn't our idea of course, it was dear Brian's. Where was he
anyway? Right, over getting his future told by one of the tarot card
readers – how he could believe in such nonsense was beyond me. The
only time he'd tricked me into going I'd been astonished to hear I
would marry and have three wonderful children – I was still dreading
the day.

But to be honest Brian was not quite at the forefront of my mind at
present.

Suddenly someone's hand was on my bum and it wasn't Ronan's – his
were around my neck and as I turned my head I nearly knocking my
lover's teeth out, kissing can be such a hazard. Behind me a rather
sweet looking guy with bleached hair winked at me, and received a
killing glare in return.

"Let's get another drink," Ronan suggested, leading me away from the
dance floor. I glared back at the guy once more but he'd disappeared
in the crowd.

Little did I know, as they like to put it in those old fashioned
crime novels, that I would soon meet a man who would wreck more than
my night out, someone who's mere existence would make me realise I
knew less about the man I loved than I did about Captain Kirk.

"Ronan! You devil, been quite awhile, innit?" someone slim and sexy
came up and kissed my lover's cheek and Ronan smiled without a trace
of embarrassment. A long face with narrow eyes and a pointy nose
turned slightly to glance at me, to then ignore me as if I was only
some uninteresting part of the scenery.

"Desmond, how nice running into you!" Desmond? How is it that people
you despise on sight almost always have names to go with it? "My, it
has to be, what six years? At least! Ah, this is Sean, we're…" he
looked at me sheepishly. "Well, do I dare say boyfriend, or is that
too trite?" He grinned with that teasing look of his and I couldn't
help but frown slightly.

"Call it what you like," I murmured and took my drink from the bar
and turned my back on him.

I pushed through the crowd and to an empty table. Where I put my
drink down; that was a precaution, if he made me lose my temper I'd
throw it in his face and I hated making scenes and drawing attention
to myself.

The music was suddenly too loud and the room too crowded. I caught
myself wishing Brian would turn up, just to prevent my confrontation
with Ronan over my peevish behaviour.

"Excuse me…" I heard him mumble to this Desmond, and then come up
behind me. For an instance all I could think was that he was probably
furious and that I'd be in so much trouble when he got me home – but
I suppressed the urge to immediately apologise and gave him an icy
glare.

"What's going on?" he whispered in a tone that was as far from angry
as it could get, it was more curious and rather seductive, unless I
misheard him completely; I blinked vacantly at him – my defences had
been utterly prepared to face his wrath with sarcasm and ice, but now
they were shrugging and returning to their posts, leaving me
speechless instead.

"Er… I… I wasn't…" I said very expressively.

His smile had that bemused sparkle as if I'd surprised him, and then
he got a look as if he'd seen an adorable kitten, his face
brightening and he laughed a little.

"Oh, Sean, that's so sweet of you…"

"?" Don't ask me how to pronounce it, but that's what I said.

"You're jealous. It's quite flattering, if unnecessary…" he kissed my
cheek and waved Desmond over, I was so confused I forgot to look cold
and scowling.



It turned out Desmond was an old university acquaintance of his and
that they had mutual friends. They reminisced for some time, speaking
of people they'd known and kept saying it was a shame they hadn't
kept in touch and other pointless things that you say to old friends
you meet in a club late on a Saturday night – early Sunday morning
actually – when you'd rather be on your way home for a good fuck.

I was about to voice this opinion to Ronan, in fewer and more
discreet words naturally, when Brian showed up, his eyes large and a
bit wild. He grabbed onto my hands and pulled without a word.

"Well, come on! Sean! I need you to dance with me!!" he sounded
clearly desperate.

"What? No! Why?" I said not terribly willing.

He frowned and blew upwards so that his bangs fluttered – well not
his bangs he was for some reason wearing funny coloured hairpieces –
it looked positively ridiculous not to mention fake hair had made me
feel rather ill for awhile now. He didn't let go of me.

"You have to! This guy won't leave me alone and I need him to! Come
on!"

"I'll dance with you, Tessa," Ronan took his hand and spun him around
leading him into the throng of bodies on the floor. Bastard! This was
just bloody typical. Now my sexy boyfriend was dancing with my
frivolous `girlfriend' – things couldn't get better. I even had
Desmond to keep me company, lovely.

Desmond twirled his glass around. I watched him for a moment; his
eyes were really not friendly, not that he was glaring at me, they
were just so thin they made him look angry in a way.

"You haven't been with Ronan for long, have you?" he said suddenly.
Quite a blunt question if you asked me and I didn't appreciate it.

"Fourth month, actually, if you must know."

"Fourth?" he looked quizzically at me for a moment and then looked
away with a small smile that wasn't a smile. "Well, that's somewhat
odd, I would've though he'd asserted his authority about now… he
always used to have his boys at his beck and call after only a few
days, they'd know not to defy him back then. But perhaps he's not as
strict nowadays." Desmond showed his teeth in shameless little grin.

I froze. What the hell was that supposed to mean? The implication hit
much too close to home and I swallowed hard and decided to change the
subject. However I never had the chance.

"Not that I remember him with guys like you, you're well… not his
type, as I recall it. Most submissives knows to show it," he chuckled
still smirking. "Well, Ronan's an experienced Top he'll know how to
deal with you," and then a small wink as if we were in on some secret.

My heart was thumping hard, I simply did not want to let my mind draw
the obvious conclusion of what he was saying; and neither did I want
to admit that he had me really quite anxious at the moment. This was
surreal, he was talking about someone I didn't know, he couldn't know
about us, about what Ronan and I… How could he think he had any right
to talk to me like this?

"What on earth would you know about what I am like in the bedroom
from seeing me for five minutes in a club?" I said finding some of
that sarcasm that Ronan didn't like me using `because it was hurtful
and people might take it the wrong way.'

"Oh, what a tone, what would Ronan say, eh?" he said with a new smirk.

"He can bloody well kiss my arse! And if you'll excuse me…" I
disdained offering an excuse and left the table for the mens, feeling
a shiver because I knew what Ronan would say.



No taxi ride could have been colder, even in midwinter. I had sat
down opposite to him instead of next to him and he was looking at me
strangely. He had tried asking me why I had been rude to Desmond,
then he'd tried to ask what Desmond had said, but I refused to think
about it and had resolved to simply put it behind me.

Not so easy though.

"Mine?"

I shrugged, looking out of the window.

"I bet I can put a smile on your face if you come up," he stated a
teasing little grin on his face. God he was so sexy!

"Wouldn't bet real money on it…" I muttered irritably.

He seemed both surprised and hurt by that, but I ignored him. The
thoughts were spinning, twirling and eating away at me. For awhile it
had felt almost, not quite, but almost as if it was completely
normal, but now I felt strange, worried. I had only two options, one
was to put this away in a neat little folder and forget about it, the
other was to consider it and make a decision, but I didn't want to
think about it.

The taxi stopped at his address and I went with him, knowing full
well that I was walking into a fight and also how fights ended… now I
knew why.

"Tea?" he said caressing my hip while passing me in the hallway.

"It's 3 a.m." I said quietly.

"Tea and toast then perhaps?" he laughed.

He didn't understand that I was angry, I realised. Or was he ignoring
it? Giving me a chance to actually do that too? Or was it that we'd
come across a situation where he couldn't see right through me? In a
way that thought disappointed me.

I went into his bedroom and looked at his bed. It was always made, as
if that happened when we weren't looking, and of course I'd owned
mine far longer than I'd known him, but I'd slept sounder and for
more hours in this bed than ever in my own.

He came up behind me, his arms going around my waist and his hands
down my trousers, we were so much closer now, he risked being brazen
and knew I wouldn't mind at all. He kissed my neck and breathed hot
air on my back through my shirt, while gently stroking me. I
shuddered breathing in deeply, he'd found places on my body that not
even I knew could feel that good.

"I so wanted to drag you into the mens when we were dancing…" he
groaned as I slipped around to facing him, my mind stopping for
awhile, thought unnecessary.

"Me too…" I whispered his lips were hot and moist and he was kissing
me with sheer hunger.

"Hm?" he smiled against my mouth, his tone teasing but wanting, "why
do I find that hard to believe?" ridding me of my shirt he ushered us
towards the bed, kissing, licking, biting – my nipples were aching
for attention and he well knew that. Other parts were aching too.

"I'd fuck you at a bus stop, you bastard!" I hissed as his hands came
up between my legs searching and finding what he was looking for
sending a jolt through me so strong I had to gasp for air for a
moment.

"Bastard am I? Well a lucky bastard then…" his tongue teased the tip
of my cock.

"You're gonna finish me too soon…" I could just barely speak.

"No, I'm not," he promised gently and he didn't.



The open blinds and the streetlights' reflection on the wet asphalt
made obscure patterns on the ceiling, I studied them and tried to
make out shapes. It's was getting lighter. Sleeping had been out of
the question, my pleasant drowsiness had disappeared at his first
soft snore – I'd made the mistake of thinking how easily I'd got used
to that little noise and my thoughts had gone downhill from there.

How easily hadn't I got used to everything about him? I already knew
every line on his face and watching him, even in the predawn light
stirred something warm inside me, but now that feeling was mixed with
something else, something dark and wary and I felt my chest
tightening.

There was so much about him that I didn't know. Who was he really? In
the three and a half months I'd known him how much had he told me
about himself? Not enough obviously, not nearly enough.

He sighed turning ever so slowly over and letting me go.

For a long time it had been hard admitting how much I liked him, how
every little gesture he made would make me long to touch him. How the
sound of his voice over the phone would make my heart skip a beat and
other parts of me declare that not only did they want to have a beer
with him they wanted all of him as soon as they could. Now I felt,
and admitting that was even harder, insecure.

He never called my office, only my cell phone, he knew I was tense
about the people at work finding out and respected it. We fought
every now and again, about my work mostly to be honest, about me
shutting him out as well. I was the one who were never allowed
secrets or privacy – he wanted, demanded to know everything.

I gritted my teeth. Bastard! Lying bastard!! Lying perverted
bastard!!! Wonderful, that really made me feel better, I thought
angrily while guiltily chewing on my lip.

I cautiously rose and put my feet on the floor. Bending over to pull
my shirt from the floor I felt him move, but he didn't wake; after
putting my trousers, socks and his slippers on I made my way into the
hall where I'd left some things earlier in the evening, knowing we
would go back to his and not wanting to leave all my work at home –
he'd frowned at it naturally.



"When did you get up?"

I looked up absentmindedly at his drowsy face, that bemused smile
playing in his eyes as he watched me. His dark blue robe had the
ability to make him look dignified even though he was wearing nothing
underneath and was padding bare footed on the carpet. I shrugged in
response, checking the time – nine thirty.

"I'll put some coffee on, shall I?" he yawned walking into the
kitchen. "You'll end up like that ghost in Harry Potter, getting up
one day and forgetting your body…" he called to me and I chuckled.
Peter had shoved it down my throat and Ronan had been reading it on
and off when at my apartment, while refusing to take it home with him
until I had read it – not that that would ever happen. I didn't read
much and a children's book – not bloody likely.

As we sat together over breakfast I stared down in my cup and must
have looked a million miles away for his hand suddenly covered mine
and I looked up into concerned eyes.

"You didn't sleep last night did you?" his sixth sense appeared to be
working again; I sighed, shrugging again.

We hadn't talked much about the past, little things now and then, I
knew he didn't have a father, he knew why I liked Peter's parents
better than my own, I knew he'd come out when he was thirteen, he
knew I'd come out while living in Manchester… but it was mostly
little things, as if the past meant nothing. I'd just realised the
past might not be completely insignificant.

He rose very suddenly and turned towards the sink. I swallowed,
certain he was going to turn around, eyes blazing, telling me quite
seriously that we'd talked about my not telling him what was wrong
before and that I knew better than to hide things. But there was
something about his hunched shoulders, his hand going up to his eyes
and his desperate grip on the cup that told me this wouldn't turn
into one of our ordinary arguments.

The hand about the cup trembled, and I was up before I'd realised
what I was doing.

"Don't strangle it!" I snapped, taking the cup from him.

He smiled weakly at me from the side, the smile had a slightly ironic
curl and he nodded, then he took the cup back and drank the last of
his coffee. I was much too confused and the misgivings I'd pushed
aside earlier through work returned, like a fist to my stomach.

I'd got used to having him nonchalantly pushing me around as if that
was within his right and me muttering about it while saying it was
only for now, I'd tell him off one of these days, but never doing so.
This was a crack in his facade that let me see something that worried
me, simply because I had no idea what it meant.

"Sean, you know I love you don't you?" he said quietly into his cup.

"I… I guess…" I mumbled, not sure of how to reply. "Me too…" I felt
it should be added, though he hardly appeared to be listening. He'd
closed his eyes and was focused on breathing, or that's what it
looked like, breathing and concentrating hard on some unpleasant
thought.

"And… and that I'd never hurt you?" we looked in opposite directions
my heart beating hard and my thoughts never stopping to pass the
torch simply running past each other. Why did he feel he had to say
that? What did he mean?

"I'm… you're not making sense!" I muttered. "I'm tired and you're not
making sense!"

He slammed the cup down and grabbed my arm, one hand going up to
turning my face towards him, his eyes weren't unkind but his face was
rigid, kind of frozen. He searched my face for something, but I'm not
sure whether he found it or not; then he frowned slightly.

"Well what did you think? Staying up all night like some teenager?
You haven't slept! Of course you're tired!" he let me go and took a
step back, glaring at me, I just nodded faintly that I'd heard him.

The silence was of a kind that made me recognise there hadn't been
this type of silence between us for a long time – not this awkward
not knowing what to say but desperately needing to silence.

I felt so hopeless and the tension was starting to drive me mad. It
wasn't like him to be quiet. He was always able to make me want to
run out of the room with my hands over my ears, but he wasn't making
speeches and he wasn't lecturing – he wasn't talking at all.

"Say something…" I hissed and felt as if I was choking on the words.

"I…" he turned away again. Damn him! Bloody bastard! He stood where
he had been a minute ago, leaning over the counter his hand going to
his eyes as if he tried to rub away whatever it was that made his
head hurt. "I don't know where to start, what to tell you."

"Anything!" I snapped, far too loudly, "sorry," I added when he
looked at me.

"All right, let's start with last night," Ronan drew a deep breath
and gestured towards the table. Sitting down I felt as if things were
moving into familiar territory. Much too familiar. I didn't want to
talk about last night, last night was about me and I wanted to talk
about him. Still I gritted my teeth and decided not to disrupt things
by complaining. "What, exactly did Desmond tell you?"

Tell me? As in `what did he reveal?' Not as in `what did he say to
piss me off?' That's what his tone seemed to be implying, or so I
thought. I could be wrong.

"I suppose… he said… well he…" I sighed feigning indifference. His
expression was one of faint unease and he kept looking at me as if I
would disappear, which made me rather uncomfortable. "He seemed to
think I should be more, I don't know, obedient… talked about things
like… like tops," I said letting out a slightly sarcastic laugh as if
it was quite a silly idea, "like in… you know…" I looked at him
knowing I should expect his confirmation, but still seeing him nod a
tired look on his face made me cringe.

There was nothing more I wanted to hear at this point and I wished
I'd never asked. How could I have ever let myself believe that there
was nothing like that behind his treatment of me. All the times I'd
told myself I wasn't going to let him walk all over me, that I didn't
need him thinking for me; why hadn't I realised how strange it was?

"I was for a period of time experimenting, but it's a very long time
ago… ten years or more, you have to understand, I wasn't the same
back then and it's really not something I want to talk about. Can you
respect that?"

I stared into my now empty cup as if I expected a singing mouse to
pop out, it would've seemed almost sane at this point. Respect?
Respect that he'd keep on lying and hiding things? I wondered
resentfully whether he would've allowed me to keep secrets like that,
secrets that affected everything I knew about us. Everything I felt.



Shaking my head decisively I looked up, but couldn't meet his eyes. I
simply locked on to a spot above his shoulder and stared blindly into
the air.

His voice was distant, but I heard him talking. Anger welled up in me
and my teeth moved tensely against each other. I was so stupid.
Hadn't control freaks always been on my list of people not to fuck?

"Sean?!" he insisted on my attention and I glared back at him.

"I didn't want to believe you got off on it, didn't want to think you
were using me like that. It's so sick! All the time making me feel
guilty and…" he got up and began moving towards me, his face calm and
worried at the same time. He wanted to reassure me, comfort me, tell
me I had it all wrong, but not this time, I would not let the bastard
lure me in.

"Don't! There's really no need!" I said caustically and his face
turned even sadder, I didn't want to see him, not like that. It made
me feel as if I was making a mistake. But I told myself I wasn't.

I rose and began to take my cup over to the sink, but paused. Such a
little thing that had meant so much, one little step into the trap
followed by many others. Him telling me what to do and me
underestimating the power he was gaining over me.

The sound of the cup against the counter top echoed in the silence
and I straightened my back and walked out of the kitchen, heading for
the living room and my paperwork, strewn carelessly over his things.
I rapidly began to collect them without looking up at him as he
entered, stopping in the doorway, his eyes boring into my neck.

Bloody hell! Couldn't he just disappear?

"Sean, what are you doing?" he asked softly. I declined answering,
though a hundred sarcastic replies formed in my head. "Please, we
won't solve anything if we don't talk this through!" he sounded more
assertive suddenly.

"I'm not solving this your way. We've nothing to talk about!"

"Fine then I'll do the talking and you will listen!"

Oh no, there was not a chance in hell I'd allow him to do that to me
now. What could he possibly think I would want to listen to? I cut my
finger on a paper as I shoved them into the briefcase and chose a few
imaginative curses. The roses on the window sill that I'd given him
seemed to taunt me. They clashed with the curtains anyway, pink
petals against carmine velvet, he should've put them in the bedroom,
they'd go fine with blue, but he wanted to see them…

His hands came up around my shoulders, tender like always, and for
just a second I wanted to throw myself in his arms, but then I shook
him off and gave him an icy glance.

"You're not walking out before we've had a chance to talk!"

"No," I answered resolutely shaking my head, a pain growing in my
chest and throat. "There's nothing more to say, I can't do this,
don't you understand? It would be a lie and I'd hate myself for it.
I'm not giving in to you again."

"I'm not saying you have to, I'm saying we can work this out and…" he
reached out and pushed his hand away.

"No! Don't! I've had enough of you!" I choked, the pain growing
unbearable. In my mind I begged him not to say anything more, not to
make this so hard.

As I started to walk away from him I knew he would stop me. I felt
his hand reach out for me even before it touched. He pulled me back,
gently but firmly, trying to decide what I should do, what he wanted
me to do.

"Sean, I'm not letting you go that easily!"

"Stop being so bloody stupid!" I turned around shouting. "I don't
want you to come near me! I trusted you! And all the time you lied
and used me, I don't need this in my life! So leave me the bloody
hell alone!"

He stumbled backwards a tiny step and I could almost see in his eyes
how my words hit him. I felt guilt like I hadn't done in years, but
also satisfaction; he'd hurt me so why shouldn't I get even? Why
shouldn't he know what he'd done?

"Go home, think for awhile, I'll be here…"

"You can bet I'm going home, but I won't be in touch. I've said… what
I needed to…" I dashed out, taking my jacket, half running down the
steps my heart pounding and my chest aching undeniably. The world
seemed grey and almost foggy as it slipped by me.

Not until I reached the bus stop did I realise I was still wearing
his slippers.



Bloody twat that I was I'd not taken the car last night. I should've
taken the car. Why hadn't I taken the car? Obviously it hadn't quite
occurred to me that I'd be breaking up with Ronan in the morning.
That was hardly the thing I normally did.

Anger had been replaced by some numb sensation and I was thinking
impossibly clear at present, the grey blur had suddenly very sharp
contrasts and the colours seemed awfully bright, details seemed to
come closer while the background dimmed. My eyes fell on a little
girl who was staring alertly at me, she looked at my feet and then
whispered something to the man on who's lap she was sitting. He drew
her protectively closer. What was I? Jack the slipper? I sighed
inwardly, my sarcasm lacked a certain sting at the moment.

Groaning I thought about getting off, but walking would probably draw
even more attention to the blasted slippers.

Now had I lived anywhere but just outside London I would have blamed
the sudden cold drizzle on an enthusiastic, cliché spitting author,
but there you have it. I curled up inside my jacket as I jogged up to
my building, checking for my car on the way – a habit from having had
one stolen.

To my great surprise some fiend had without my approval changed my
locks while I was away and my movements became more and more frantic
as I tried to turn the key. Finally I hit the door as hard as I could
with my fist, cursing rabidly and yelling something about it, the
door, getting out of my way.

The door opened.

And as if a door with it's own mind wasn't enough to give me heart
attack I of course had to come face to face with the one person I
least wanted to see, well one of the people I least wanted to see
anyhow.

"Dad?" I stared dumbfounded at him for quite awhile. "How was Spain?"
Yes well, the possibility of asking him how he got in or why he was
there, or any number of sane, rational questions simply didn't occur
to me.

"Sean Patrick! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" Yes, probably,
not that I was exactly sure of the reason at the time.

I bowed my head slightly and stepped inside, I let him lead me into
the kitchen as if he owned it and not I. I put my briefcase away and
watched the foot tapping irritably next to me, looking up my father's
face was brightly red, like an overripe tomato.

"You've been out all night, haven't you? Didn't we agree there would
be nothing like that happening when you came back here? You were
supposed to behave responsibly and focus on your career, weren't you?
What did you do?"

`Who did you do?' He meant of course, but being my father it would
never put anything quite so bluntly. I shrugged and swallowed,
Ronan's touch as we danced coming back and I gritted my teeth. I'd
not even told them about Ronan, they must know though, Peter's
parents didn't keep what they perceived to be good news quiet for
long.

I was overcome by an empty feeling thinking about how saddened they'd
be at this news. Then again this whole mess was their fault. Hadn't I
done just fine before they started to meddle in my love life? And of
course bloody Linda had to drag that bastard into my life!

"Sean Patrick!!"

"Sorry? Oh, I was just out…" I muttered.

"With that Robert fellow?"

They had told. The fact that he hadn't bothered to memorise his name
didn't bother me half as much as the derisive, annoyed tone as if he
was talking about something utterly offensive. He'd never even met
him! Then it hit me I had no reason to feel defensive where he was
concerned; I hated myself for suddenly lacking the ability to swallow.

"Your mother has been beside herself. Have you even considered your
career? I didn't get you that job for you to ruin my reputation!"

"I wouldn't and you didn't…" he cut me off again, leaving me
frustrated and cornered.

"Does it make you feel proud upsetting your mother at every chance
you get? You ought to be ashamed of yourself! She has enough to worry
about without you getting aids or… or… I don't even want to think
about it!"

I stared at him. This was just not happening, I couldn't deal with
one of my father's psychotic lectures today. I had tried to point
out to him at various occasions that if my mother was so worried then
perhaps she could bring herself to actually speaking to me and not
just hand the phone over to him with a stifled sob every time she
picked up. At least he yelled at me.

"Can we have this conversation at an other time. Now is really not…"
I choke on the words even as he was ignoring me yet again and
continuing his brusque tirade of questions.

"Well who the hell is he? Some pansy, half-woman, I suppose – like
that, that designer person you're so smitten with?"

"What? No… leave Brian out of this! And you've no reason to be so
condescending!" my voice rose despite me trying to clear my head and
not shout. However I wasn't in a very reliable state of mind at
present and I was nearing the point where I'd toss him through the
door.

He glared at me and seemed almost about to box my ears like when I
was younger. But he composed himself and sat down in the sofa. He'd
shifted my paperwork I noticed. Actually looking about he'd shifted a
lot of things. Thrown some magazines away and opened my mail. I
stared for a moment in utter astonishment.

"How did you get in here, by the way?" I said pointedly while picking
the magazine up from the dustbin. "And who gave you the right to open
my bloody bills?"

"Edina, thought it wise that we had it now that we were home…"

"Had what?"

"The key of course! Are you so bloody stupid?" he glared at
me. "Don't suppose you could get me a cuppa?"

I swallowed hard, not allowing myself to scream. How could they? I
sighed, damn their daft interfering goodwill! I'd given them the key
for emergencies, not my parents because I didn't trust my parents to
stay out – which my father had proven they wouldn't, or that he
wouldn't anyway.

It was simply too much to deal with right now, but I needed to get
the key back all the same, I would not have him come in here like
this, it would kill me – or I'd kill him.

"Could I have it back?" I asked, my voice rather unsteady.

"Have what back?" he asked in his gruff sort of way.

"The bloody key!" I snapped.

"Well now, mind you language boy, if you weren't so old I'd…" he dug
up the key from his pocket and handed it over thankfully, without
more complaints. He didn't know where he had me my father, like I was
never sure where I had him. There was no trust, nor love lost between
us.

He'd never been around much when I grew up and I knew he blamed
himself for the way I turned out as he put it. I didn't remember what
my mother had been like even though she'd always been there. That
frightened me sometimes, that I didn't remember her from back then.

He was still sitting in the sofa staring out the window.

"Ruddy fancy place you got here… too bad you don't keep it neat… a
woman would be good for that…"

It was quiet again and I could here my own breathing, it was heavy,
reminding me of Vader's if I was honest, and if I was even more
honest I could hear how tired I was.

"I'd like you to leave, I'll ring…" I said levelly.

"Tossing me out, are you? You little bugger! Is that a way to treat
your father?!" his face had turned red again. I sighed inwardly, he
would turn everything into a fight.

"I'll ring, talk to mother… whatever you want, I just want to be
alone now!" I tried to speak calmly and reasonably and also to stay
that way even though my head was pounding and all I could think about
was having a bloody big drink and go drown myself in the bathtub.

He got up and left for the hallway. Then he came back and stared at
me. I turned and we stood facing each other for a minute or two – it
felt like an eternity.

"You'd tell us if you were in trouble, wouldn't you?" he said at
last. I closed my eyes and just groaned, why was everything so damn
hard for him to understand?

"Would you get out! I'm so sick of people interfering with my life!"
I shouldn't have used the tone I did, I knew as soon as I had. His
face turned red once again and I was nearly afraid he'd have a heart
attack.

"Someone has to! Look at you! Out with god knows what weird
characters all night! And then you prance around London in slippers!
In GODDAMN slippers Sean!!"

"Fuck off! Go to HELL!! Just get out of my sight! OUT!!" My voice
rose to a roar with bottled up anger and I drove him out by simply
walking towards him until he was out the door. I slammed it hard and
sank down on the inside, the back of my head banging against the wood
and tears finally streaming down my face.



"Yes I'll be right on it! …Hm, only three… Sure! Right now, it's as
good as done… yes of course…" finishing up with the client I hung up
the phone and returned to my computer. Two new mails, from a client…
I don't know what I was expecting but somehow I was disappointed
every time I check my inbox.

I was drifting. There's no other word for it. I felt as if I'd lost
hold of something, maybe time itself. Lately I wasn't talking to
practically anyone actually; I was avoiding Peter after the
confrontation with his parents over the key and I hadn't heard from
Brian or… well that covered all my friends didn't it?

My blood was still boiling over the whole key incident and Harry and
Edina had been quite distraught at my very sudden outburst. I'd told
them in no uncertain terms that if they ever betrayed my trust like
that again, it'd be the last time I spoke to them. Well I hadn't put
it quite like that, not nearly as melodramatic, but they'd got the
point and Peter had rung the day after saying his mother was still in
shock and asking me to make up with them.

I flatly refused, but made a few lame excuses about being upset about
what my father had said… I hadn't mentioned Him. He meant nothing
now, couldn't, mustn't mean anything. Can't say it helped things much
that Linda wrung the phone from his hands and laid into me about
breaking His heart. I'd hung up before I decided to put out a
contract on her life.

"Sean? Do you have a minute?" Charvi sat down on my desk, I glanced
up at her, her clothes were always seriously mismatched, and still
she managed to look as if they really weren't, and her earrings were
of a kind Brian would kill for.

"I suppose," I answered and gave my mouse a little push.

"Um, lovely tie you're wearing," she said and smiled, stalling
obviously.

"Er, thanks, I got it from my…" I bit my tongue, I truly did – it
hurt!

"Your girlfriend?" she said smiling as if relieved.

"Mm," I muttered, my tongue really throbbed.

"Well that settles that. We thought you'd broken up. Well, what with
you being so pining lately. Cameron has a bet on with Mitch, the
bloke from development, and all," she smiled and got up.

Cameron had a bet on? I felt a serious headache coming on.



It was strange, instead of burying myself in work I was beginning to
let it slip. It was really odd, I'd never done it before, I kept
taking on as much as before, but somehow I seemed to have piles and
piles of folders surrounding me and nothing got done as quickly as it
used to.

No wonder Cameron had a bet on.

Something as routine as gathering my things by the end of the day
felt somehow very difficult, and time and time again I found myself
thinking that perhaps I shouldn't take this or that with me just in
case he saw how much I had to do. And then realising it didn't matter.

I dropped a folder as I closed the door to my office and bending to
pick it up a pair of shoes came in my line of vision… little less
than three steps away. I straightened up and my heart stopped for a
moment. I almost smiled. I almost screamed.

His eyes were so soft, so serious and yet slightly worried. I
wondered how I looked – as if I'd swallowed a nail most likely. For
much too long it seemed nearly impossible to turn away. And then the
moment was gone. He made a move as if to nod at me, but I turned
around, my heart in my throat and rushed off towards the stairs. If I
got stuck in a lift with him I'd die.

There were mere inches between me and my boss's car when I drove off,
but I didn't care, I just wanted to be far, far away.

Why had he been there? He hadn't been up there since the firm got his
fucking project, so why did he have to come there and stir things up
again? I had almost made myself believe that I could get over him
like I'd got over every other passing fancy, but the way my hands
trembled on the wheel I couldn't very well lie to myself.

I stopped at a fork, not going left and not going right, just sitting
there, my shaking hands clinging to the wheel and a dull ache in my
chest. My eyes became misty and I had to shake my head hard. The car
behind me saw fit to point out the fact that I was standing still –
apparently I didn't know. At least I was angry enough to point out
that the driver of said car could shove at least two of my fingers
somewhere where the light didn't shine when he roared past me as I
made the turn.

I did feel better after that.



Entering my apartment I was calm again. Still feeling rather
shattered, but handling it much better. I poured myself a whiskey and
lifted it solemnly to my lips, first letting the scent of it surround
me. That was something Ronan always did, I realised – honestly he
even did that when he drank coke. A smile flickered across my face.

I put the glass down and stared out the window. Yes I missed him. I'd
been in love, he'd let me down. Anyone would feel like this after a
nasty break up, wouldn't they? I hadn't ever had one before so I
didn't know whether what I was feeling was really accurate.

But he'd betrayed me… violated me in a way… I sighed, that didn't fit
it just didn't, it felt too harsh to say that. And still I was really
hurting, he'd done that to me, but not through any abusive behaviour,
and he hadn't demanded me back, hadn't threatened, nothing. Not a
word actually.

Maybe that was what was wrong, this hadn't been resolved, it felt as
if I was still waiting for something.

There was a knock on the door and my heart jumped up in my throat.
Before I reached the hall the knock came again, harder. Who did I
know who didn't use the bloody doorbell?

I opened and frowned in an almost shocked sense of foreboding. The
stranger I'd thought I saw, wasn't a stranger at all, I'd known this
timid little boy a few years ago, a small, slight Manchester boy, who
dressed in sweaters twice his size and hid under a dirty red cap. His
pretty, nearly girlish features was marred by an ugly bruise and he
was so pallid I thought he would faint.

Nothing short of a disaster could've caused this change. I reached
out a hand to steady him before he fell over the threshold.

"What's happened, Bri? What is it?"


TBC